


Bite Marks and Bruises

by Kushimani



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Does it count as underaged if he's 17?, Dubious Consent Due To Memory Loss, M/M, Memory Loss, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, basically pure smut, harry is 17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:13:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28769130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kushimani/pseuds/Kushimani
Summary: Red eyes trailed over his form, a spark of what he recognized to be amusement glinting in their depths.With how the other held himself, tall and imposing, commanding, he assumed the other was the one who imprisoned him, and perhaps erased his memories.He shifted, weakly propping himself up on his elbows as he had earlier, eyes locked onto the intimidating being.A smirk tugged at the other’s lipless mouth. “Harry Potter,” He-for his voice definitely sounded male- purred.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Voldemort
Comments: 6
Kudos: 206





	Bite Marks and Bruises

**Author's Note:**

> Umm..Hi? aNYWAYS it's 3:36 a.m. I'm just going to leave this here. Constructive criticism welcome, unconstructive criticism will be deleted, and all that shit. 
> 
> Also this is basically pure smut that I'm using as practice for any actual stories I may try to write. You've been warned.

He slowly regained consciousness, a small groan of pain escaping him when he felt sharp pain centered mostly around his wrists and stomach.

His first thought was, _where am I,_ closely followed by-

_Who am I?_

His lashes fluttered open, emerald eyes taking in the room, which was a bit blurry.

Stone walls, stone floor, ominous bars-

Oh. Was he a prisoner? What had he done? He couldn’t remember.

He tugged a bit at his wrists, which gave a sharp stab of pain as something metal bit into them. A quick glance told him he had been cuffed with heavy metal shackles that were biting into his thin wrists, a bit of dried blood visible around them. He winced at that.

From the throbbing from the wounds beneath the metal, he assumed the wounds were infected. Fantastic.

Another glance down told him he was wearing nothing but a pair of ragged black pants that looked like they had seen much better days. His skin had dirt on it in most visible spots, as if he had been dragged across the ground.

His eyes flitted around the small cell, nose wrinkling at the smell of… _something._ It smelled like rotting flesh, perhaps. Though he wondered how he knew what that smelled like.

He shifted himself, leaning back against the wall. His lids slipped shut, a small sigh leaving him, tongue peeking out to wet his chapped lips.

How had he gotten here? What had he done? Had he broken the law? Or perhaps he had an enemy?

He began drifting off, suddenly feeling incredibly tired, his last, vaguely desperate thought being once more, _who am I?_

* * *

He awoke in an entirely different place, feeling oddly refreshed. He no longer felt dirty, and a quick glance down at himself told him he had been washed, or a spell had cleaned him. His wounds were gone as well. The glance also told him he had been stripped bare.

He tried to sit up, but was only able to weakly prop himself up on his elbow. His body felt sluggish and heavy, as if drugged.

The room he had been located to was much too luxurious for someone who had just been, to his knowledge, a prisoner.

The walls were an emerald green, and the floor a dark colored wood. A fireplace was blazing in the left corner of the wall across from him, warming the room. Perhaps it was winter?

Bookshelves lined the wall to his right, and there was a comfortable looking armchair in front of the fire. A dresser was pressed against the wall to his left, a desk nearby. There was one door by the dresser, and another in the center of the wall across from the bed.

Speaking of the bed, it was a large, soft thing. He was practically sinking into the plush mattress. The bedspread was an emerald green, a little darker than the walls, and the sheets a silver, silky material. The pillows matched the sheets.

Thick, green velvet curtains were tied to the bedposts. If they were to be untied, the bed would surely fall into darkness. On either side of the bed on the wall behind him were two windows, allowing in faint moonlight.

The owner of the room must love green, he mused absently. He didn’t feel panicked in the least, with all of his memories gone. He was nobody now, and didn’t really have a purpose.

He let himself sink back down against the bed, a sigh of relief escaping him as he finally relaxed. Even the small task of propping himself up on his elbow had been a drain to his seemingly tiny amount of energy.

He shifted himself slowly so that he was facing the door across from him, more an instinctive action than not, and allowed his eyes to fall half-lidded. He fell into a soft daze, lacking a reason to feel anything other than relaxed.

Time passed. Minutes, or perhaps hours. It was spent in an almost-doze, eyelids having slid shut long ago.

His attention snapped to the door when he heard it creak open, his eyes sliding open to lock onto it.

A tall figure entered the room. White skin, with a bluish tint. That surely wasn’t healthy. The being(because surely it wasn’t _human?_ ) had piercing red eyes, no hair in sight, and was void of a nose(he vaguely wondered if it was born that way, or had somehow lost it). It was wearing a black cloak that skimmed the floor, and it’s fingers were long and pale. It’s nails looked like they could easily slice open his throat if wielded correctly.

The sight of the strange being should’ve invoked a feeling of horror in him, but he felt...Nothing. Well, a vague sense of curiosity, and a slight tingling on his forehead that confused him, but other than that, nothing.

Red eyes trailed over his form, a spark of what he recognized to be amusement glinting in their depths.

With how the other held himself, tall and imposing, _commanding_ , he assumed the other was the one who imprisoned him, and perhaps erased his memories.

He shifted, weakly propping himself up on his elbows as he had earlier, eyes locked onto the intimidating being.

A smirk tugged at the other’s lipless mouth. “ _Harry Potter,_ ” He-for his voice definitely sounded male- purred.

He blinked lazily at the other. Was that his name? _Harry Potter._ He rolled it over in his mind, testing it. It sounded like a plain name, but it sounded like it belonged to him.

The other male-again, he assumed. He was also beginning to assume the other was human, as he had many human features-hummed softly, and approached him. He could just barely make out the sound of bare feet touching the wooden floor.

He stopped by the side of the bed he was on, and leaned over. Cold, spidery fingers grasped his chin, tilting his head back so that his eyes met the other’s. Cruel amusement shone in the red orbs.

The taller male’s thumb brushed his lips, slipping between them and forcing its way into his mouth. He went with it, allowing the pad of the cold digit to settle on his tongue.

“You’re so docile, Potter. Something wrong?” The other questioned, sounding genuinely mystified.

He blinked up at the taller male, tongue trying to work around the thumb to speak. “Wh-Who are you?” He asked curiously, gagging a bit when the thumb slid deeper, brushing the back of his tongue.

“ _Who am I?_ ” The other hissed, the skin where his brows would be, if he had them, pinched. “Potter, do not try my patience.” The thumb slipped out, a thin trail of saliva clinging to it.

He licked his lips, wetting them, eyes flitting away from the other. He was feeling a bit uneasy now. Would he be harmed for not remembering? He didn’t have a reason to be alive for now, but pain didn’t sound good.

“I’m sorry.” He said softly, eyes lowering to the bed. He’d rather not enrage him.

His head was tilted back sharply, the long, pale expanse of his throat bared. Red eyes met his own, and he felt _pain._

His head throbbed suddenly, as if a miniature explosion had occurred behind his eyes, his vision blurring violently. He gave a sharp jerk, a futile attempt to escape the pain in his head, but his chin was held firmly by the other’s spidery fingers.

The pain faded away after a moment, vanishing as abruptly as it came. He went limp, falling back onto the soft mattress, the other’s fingers releasing his chin.

A soft, contemplative hum met his ears. His vision was still blurry, but it was slowly focusing.

“It seems that Bella has made a _very_ big misstep whilst bringing you into my dungeon. She shall have to be punished.” The other’s voice was cold, but didn’t seem to be aimed at him. Fingers brushed his hair back away from his forehead, one finger tracing an odd pattern on his forehead.

He tilted his head, pressing his forehead against the other’s palm. The touch of another felt nice, even if he had just caused him pain.

The fingers caressed his cheek. “My name is Voldemort, but you will call me ‘my Lord’, or ‘Master’.” _Voldemort_ ordered.

His nose wrinkled. It felt like he shouldn’t do that. He opened his mouth to protest-

Fingers curled in his hair and _yanked._ He released a cry of pain, raising his head to try and gain some slack from the cruel tugging. Voldemort only tightened his grip.

Tears welled up in his eyes, threatening to fall, but they couldn’t seem to.

“You _will_ do as I say,” Voldemort said coldly.

He flinched, trying to ignore the pain. “Yes...my Lord,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

The grip loosened, the fingers carding through his messy black locks almost sweetly. “Good boy,” Voldemort praised. “You’re learning well.”

He shut his eyes, feeling warmth well up in his chest at the praise, along with a pleasant tingling on his forehead where the other had traced his fingers earlier. It felt good. If he obeyed Voldemort, perhaps he’d feel this way often?

The hand in his hair slid down, along his cheek, then down his neck. He flinched when Voldemort’s nails scraped along his throat, no doubt raising welts.

He felt the bed shift, and cloth brush his bare thighs, drawing his attention to the fact he’s entirely nude.

Oddly enough, he felt no embarrassment or shame at the realization. A part of losing his memory, no doubt.

He opened his eyes, blinking up at Voldemort. He had straddled his thighs, and in this position he felt much smaller than the other.

Cold fingers trailed up his sides, and his back arched instinctively, a small whine leaving his lips. The actions from the larger man confused him, but felt good nonetheless.

Harry’s lashes fluttered when Voldemort leaned down and nipped at his pale throat with unusually sharp teeth, one of the man’s hands gripping his hip firmly. He gasped in pain when the other’s teeth sank into his throat the slightest bit, and tried to squirm away.

His escape was prevented by the hand on his hip, and the man caging him in. He whimpered when Voldemort sucked on the spot he was biting.

After a moment Voldemort pulled away, licking away what looked to be a hint of blood around his mouth. Amusement still glinted in the other’s red orbs, along with something else that he didn’t recognize. The other thing was smoldering in its intensity, all consuming and _possessive_ -

Yes. Possessive. That’s what it was.

He shuddered under the other’s touch as deft fingers trailed down his flat belly(t _oo skinny to be normal,_ he thought absently), back arching into the light touch. His reaction was rewarded with a praising coo that warmed his entire being pleasantly, particularly his forehead. Any thoughts that may have tried to pop up about it happening too fast were swept away.

The hand paused where his hip and leg connect, thumb gently rubbing teasing circles near his swelling cock.

_Oh. When had that happened?_

A glance at the larger male’s face told him that he was currently very lucky that he wasn’t being devoured alive. Possessiveness and a consuming _want_ were obvious in the red depths of the man’s eyes.

He gasped when his cock was grasped, the other man’s hand almost engulfing his length. Voldemort’s thumb brushed along the head, and Harry trembled, mewling at the feeling. Apparently he was very sensitive.

“ _Harry,_ ” Voldemort purred. “Look at me.”

He forced himself to look back up at Voldemort’s face, his own flushed with the blood rushing to his head rapidly.

Voldemort was taking in his expression greedily, as if to devour him with his eyes. A tug on his cock made him arch up once more, keening loudly.

Voldemort leaned down, pressing kisses along his jaw almost lovingly. He would have been fooled if not for the harsh yanking on his hair earlier, the cruel amusement formerly in the man’s eyes, and the imprisonment.

He felt Voldemort lodge himself between his legs, kneeling, abandoning Harry’s now swollen cock to force his long legs over the larger man’s hips. The action made his legs spread open further and his hips raise the slightest bit, revealing all of himself to the other male’s eyes.

His eyes flitted away, suddenly feeling embarrassed at the new position, but snapped his eyes back to Voldemort when sharp nails dug warningly into his hip, and the other hissed, “ _Look at me._ ”

Harry’s eyes went wide as the larger male’s mouth pressed firmly to his, Voldemort leaning down to do so, leaving him completely caged in beneath him. The feel of Voldemort’s lipless mouth on his own was odd, but not unpleasant.

He gasped when sharp teeth nipped his lower lip, and Voldemort took the opportunity to slip his tongue into Harry’s mouth.

He felt Voldemort cup his cheek with his free hand to better angle him to be ravished.

Harry released a soft whimper as his mouth was thoroughly explored, Voldemort’s hot, slick tongue rubbing against every part of his mouth. He could vaguely hear the sound of clothes rustling, after the hand on his hip vanished.

He felt a cold, slick finger press against his hole and flinched. He was soon distracted from the finger when Voldemort began sucking on his bottom lip. A pained mewl escaped him when Voldemort bit down, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to hurt.

Harry was focused on his abused lip being lapped at soothingly, when a finger slid into him. He immediately tensed, thighs tightening around Voldemort’s hips.

“V-Volde-” He cut himself off with a hiss, trying futilely to scramble away as a second finger pushed in roughly. It felt like a punishment, the sudden intrusion burning, even though Voldemort’s sharp nails somehow seemed to be incapable of cutting him currently. Had he done something wrong-?

_Oh._

“Master,” he choked out, fingers curling into Voldemort’s silk robes, holding on tightly. “It hurts. I’m sorry.”

He was rewarded with a soft croon, and deceptively gentle kisses trailed along his jawline. “Relax, Harry. Let me make you feel good.” Voldemort purred into his ear, making him shiver.

The fingers in him _curled,_ and he gasped loudly as they prodded something deep inside of him that made him arch up against Voldemort with pleasure.

A hissy chuckle met his ears, but he ignored it, focusing on the pleasure that coursed through him as the fingers rubbed the pleasurable spot inside of him.

“Vo- _Master,_ ” Harry cried, clinging to Voldemort’s robes as a third finger pushed into him, causing a burn that was quickly drowned out by the pleasure. He could feel Voldemort sucking a mark on his neck, but he could hardly focus on anything other than the fingers stuffing him.

He felt a sudden sense of loss as the fingers left him, and he gave a small cry of protest at the emptiness. He pressed closer, silently begging for his fingers once more, when something bigger pressed to his hole.

He made to look at what was prodding at him, but Voldemort blocked him, kissing him deeply once more and pressing him down onto the mattress. The kiss was rough, but he wasn’t the cause, as he was mostly allowing Voldemort to do as he pleased. Tongue and sharp teeth prodded and nipped at his mouth and lips, insistent at being allowed complete access. Not that Voldemort was being denied.

Harry stiffened when the tip of what was prodding at his hole slid inside, bigger than the fingers. Voldemort trailed kisses down his chin, to his neck where he began sucking another bruise.

Suddenly, Voldemort’s hips pulled back a bit, the thing inside of him pulling nearly all the way out, and then Voldemort slammed forwards.

He cried out, fingers scrambling for purchase on Voldemort’s cloak as the larger man buried his cock inside of him, hitting his sensitive prostate. _Fuck,_ he was being fucked. Definitely. He’s so fucking _stupid_ for not having caught on to that a moment ago. _Of course_ the preparation was leading up to this.

Harry felt a hand grasp his cock, stroking it with firm, smooth motions. He felt like putty in the other’s hands, being molded to fit Voldemort’s fancy.

Strangely, he didn’t feel opposed to that. It’s not like he had anything else to do with his life now, anyways.

He laid there, the occasional cry or moan escaping him as Voldemort thrust into him steadily. Hands roamed his body, a thumb brushing over one of his perky nipples, causing him to arch up against Voldemort with a groan.

Harry felt Voldemort’s hips stutter right as he himself stiffened, clamping down on the other man’s cock. His balls tightened, drawing up, and white, sticky liquid squirted onto his stomach.

Voldemort latched onto his shoulder with sharp teeth, cock burying deep inside of him, and he felt the other empty his seed inside of him.

He whimpered when Voldemort released his shoulder and lapped at the wound. He felt the other shift into a more comfortable position, still atop him and buried inside of him. It didn’t seem like he would be released from the other’s grasp anytime soon.

And he was okay with that, for now.

**Author's Note:**

> You were warned.


End file.
